


Respite

by orphan_account



Series: Worldweavers One-shots and Snippets [5]
Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works & Related Fandoms, Worldweavers - Multiverse
Genre: Alternate Universe, Autumn, Friendship, Gen, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-19
Updated: 2020-09-19
Packaged: 2021-03-07 21:01:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,992
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26544127
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Autumn mists, scary films, and a homely night in with friends.OC-centric; won't make a lot of sense without context from other fics in the series.
Relationships: Minor or Background Relationship(s)
Series: Worldweavers One-shots and Snippets [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2002375
Comments: 11
Kudos: 10





	Respite

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Learning to Fly](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/709921) by Verhalen. 



> I was thinking about the need for Anthony to have meaningful relationships besides Sören, and also about Theo and Luc, and how Harrison might feel about their friendship in the light of everything that's happened - and then this sprouted.

**October 2015**

**Covent Garden, London**

“Smells good,” Claire called, closing her books and stretching out on the sofa. The sweet, spicy scent of the chilli curled through the flat, mingling with the smoked evening air drifting in through the windows. She ought to close them, she thought ruefully, hearing her grandmother's scolding tones in her head - “there's no point in heating the outside” - but it was so comfortable and warm under the blanket...  
  
“I think it's nearly done.” Theo wandered through from the kitchen and flopped down beside her. “Though I might have made too much.”  
  
“How much are we talking?”  
  
“The big pot is nearly full,” he admitted, turning red. “I did the second packet of mushrooms, and then added more beans so the proportions weren't off...”  
  
“Wow.” Claire laughed, drawing her knees up to make more space. “OK, yes, that probably is a bit too much.”  
  
“It's hard to tell what it'll look like when it's all cooked down,” Theo said defensively.  
  
“I'm not having a go at you.” She squeezed his arm. “We can freeze the leftovers; it'll save us cooking another night, when we can't be bothered.”  
  
Theo nodded, reassured.  
  
“Thank you for sorting it out.” She gestured at the stack of textbooks and notepads on the coffee table. “I don't know how I got so behind with all of this...”  
  
“Are you finished now?”  
  
“Getting there.” She blew upwards. “I'm done for today, at least.”  
  
“Do you mind if I put the radio on?”  
  
“Not at all.”  
  
Theo got to his feet and fiddled with the buttons and dials. Claire tidied her study detritus away onto the bookshelves, then pulled the windows shut. Thin sheets of mist draped over the courtyard below; Claire thought of Gil, hopefully on his way back from rehearsal by now, and then smiled as the introduction to 'Do You Love Me?' by The Contours sounded from the speakers.  
  
_"You broke my heart  
'Cause I couldn't dance..."_  
  
“Claire?”  
  
She turned – and laughed. Theo was holding his hands out to her, an appealing smile on his face.  
  
“Shall we?” he asked.  
  
“Why not?”  
  
Theo was a strong dancer; he'd learned ballroom at school, and at St Andrews he'd been in plenty of shows with Harrison and Luc. Claire wasn't bad, though she'd never had lessons – but this was pure silliness, utter joy. They swayed to and fro with their arms around each other; they did the twist, dipping close to the floor; they managed a passable improvised jive around the living room, Claire flipping her skirt and flicking her hair. She watched Theo as they danced, delighted by the wide, genuine smile on his face, the light in his eyes, the helpless laughter when they bumped into the furniture or went the wrong way. She knew he was doing better, that he kept making progress, but _seeing_ it like this was like someone placing a warm, settling arm around her shoulders.  
  
_He's OK. He's going to be alright._  
  
They were doing a bizarre cross between the quickstep and the salsa when the lock turned and the front door clunked open.  
  
“Hi, Gil,” Claire called without looking around.  
  
“It isn't Gil.”  
  
“Oh!” She let go of Theo and spun around, hand over her mouth, giggling. Theo blushed and ran a hand sheepishly through his hair. “Er – hi.”  
  
“Hi.” Anthony's mouth curled. “Am I interrupting?”  
  
“Not at all.” Claire took a breath, calming the giggle fit. “Sorry. Post-study insanity.”  
  
“There's no need to apologise. This is your home; you're perfectly free to...” He waved his free hand. “Do whatever that was.”  
  
Claire rolled her eyes, though she knew he was teasing. “Coffee? Tea?”  
  
“No, thank you – I wasn't planning to stay.” He shifted his bag so that he could delve inside while still gripping his cane. “I spent the afternoon with Sören, but he and Nicholas have plans tonight, so I thought I'd drop this off on my way home.” He handed her the copy of _The Woman in Black_ that he'd borrowed a few days before. “Thank you for the loan.”  
  
“You're welcome. It seemed like the right time of year for it...what's wrong?” she added to Theo, who was eyeing the book with obvious distaste.  
  
“I don't like that book.”  
  
“Why on earth...?”  
  
“I don't usually get scared of ghost stories.” Theo sounded defensive again. “But there's something really awful about that one...I don't know, it got right under my skin. It's hard to explain.”  
  
“I understand,” said Anthony unexpectedly. “Books are powerful things. When I was younger, my grandmother – Anthea – got me a child's version of _Beowulf._ I was so frightened of the picture of Grendel that I made my Mum give it away to a charity shop.”  
  
“Seriously?” Claire grinned.  
  
“Yes.” His eyes narrowed. “Don't you laugh at me, Claire James.”  
  
“I wouldn't dare. And I've no room to talk.” Laughing a little, she admitted, “I couldn't cope with _Five Go To Mystery Moor_ when I was small.”  
  
Anthony smiled again, a genuine smile that touched his eyes. “You were frightened of a Famous Five book?”  
  
“Yep. So now we're all even.” She set _The Woman in Black_ back on the bookshelf, and for good measure covered it up with one of her records management texts. “Are you sure you won't stay for a cup of tea? Gil should be back any minute; he'd be sorry to miss you.”  
  
“Well, if you're sure...”  
  
Another key in the lock, another clunk of the door handle – and this time it _was_ Gil, still in his rehearsal gear, silky black-and-blue hair caught back in an Alice band. His eyes lit when he saw Anthony, and he crossed the room and gave him a hug and a light kiss on the lips.  
  
“Hello, handsome.”  
  
“Hello yourself.” Anthony's cheeks turned a delicate shade of pink.  
  
“I didn't know you were coming for dinner.”  
  
“I wasn't -”  
  
“I think you are now,” grinned Theo.  
  
“Unless your parents are expecting you back?” Claire added, not wanting to push or intrude.  
  
But Anthony shook his head. “As a matter of fact I talked them into going to Brighton until Sunday. They haven't had any time alone with each other since – well.”  
  
“You were going to go back to Blackheath and spend days on end by yourself?” Claire asked, exasperated. “Why didn't you say something?”  
  
Anthony shrugged; she opened her mouth again, but Gil shot her a look that plainly said “leave it”, and led Anthony over to the sofa.  
  
She changed tack. “Well, you're very welcome to spend the evening with us. Theo's cooked to feed the five thousand.”  
  
Anthony looked up at Theo. “You cook?”  
  
“A bit, yes.” Theo's answering smile held a hint of challenge. “You sound surprised.”  
  
“I am, a little,” Anthony admitted.  
  
“You can blame Luc. When he moved in with us in St Andrews, he was the only one of us who knew his way around a kitchen, but he made us learn. I suppose he didn't want to cook all the time.”  
  
“I can't blame him for that.”  
  
Theo's smile softened. “Neither can I, really. We were clueless.”

"How is he?" Anthony asked.

"Better, I think." Theo bit his lip. "He says, so, anyway. I haven't seen him since the weekend."

Gil, who had stretched out on the sofa next to Anthony, looked up. "Neither have I; Harrison's been keeping him wrapped in cotton wool." 

"Not surprising." Anthony gave a grimace. "Concussion's no laughing matter."

Gil tilted his head thoughtfully. “Will the chilli feed six, do you think, Claire?”  
  
“Easily.”  
  
“So why don't we make a night of it? Sören and Nicholas are busy, but we could have Luc and Harrison over -”  
  
“Maybe watch a scary film or two. Not _The Woman in Black_ ,” Claire said quickly, catching sight of Theo's face. “But it is almost Hallowe'en.”  
  
“Sounds good.” Gil touched Anthony's cheek. “Do you want to stay the night?”  
  
“I don't have any clean clothes.”  
  
Gil made a disbelieving noise in the back of his throat. “And Theo and I couldn't possibly lend you anything to go home in?”  
  
Anthony laughed; his shoulders relaxed, and he leaned back into the cushions. “Alright. Yes. Please.”  
  
“Perfect.” Claire checked her watch. “I'll get some drinks in the fridge so they're cold for later, and then I'll put the kettle on – Theo, can you get in touch with Harrison and Luc?”  
  
It was deliberate – a nudge to reach out after the angry words of last Saturday. For a moment Theo looked as though he might argue, but then he nodded and pulled out his phone.  
  
As the kettle boiled, Claire gazed out of the kitchen window, half an ear on the conversation in the living room. The mist was thickening, pressing against the panes, lit by the insipid orange glow of the street lamps. She was glad Anthony had agreed to stay; she knew he hated fuss, but the thought of him limping through London when visibility was so poor and the ground was so slippery made her shudder – especially with Elaine and Roger away. If anything happened, none of them would know...  
  
“Claire?”  
  
Anthony's voice startled her from her reverie.  
  
“Is there anything I can do to help?”  
  
She shook her head. “The pot's warmed, and the leaves are in. I'm just waiting for the kettle.”  
  
He nodded and leaned against the counter, his eyes thoughtful.  
  
“What is it?” she asked. She recognised this body language; this was Anthony assembling one of his speeches, getting ready to walk his jury through a problem until they arrived at exactly the conclusion he wanted.  
  
“May I give you some advice?”  
  
The kettle reached boiling point and clicked off; carefully, she lifted it free of the stand and poured hot water over the leaves. “I suspect you're going to, whether I want it or not.”  
  
Anthony raised his eyebrows.  
  
“Fine.” Claire set the lid on the teapot. “You may, as long as you let me return the favour.”  
  
The corner of his mouth lifted. “It's a deal.”  
  
She turned to face him, giving him her full attention. “Go on then.”  
  
“Why did you ask Theo to ring Harrison and Luc? Gil could have done it just as easily. Or I could.”  
  
Claire folded her arms. “You know why.” _Don't play with me. I know what you're trained to do._  
  
“Claire, don't pressure them. They _are_ getting there – I know last weekend didn't help, but they were both upset. Until then, things were improving between them; Harrison has thawed towards Theo even in the time that I've known him, and Theo won't push him away when he does open up. He's missed him too much for that.”  
  
“I know.”  
  
“Then let them go at their own pace. We won't help anything by involving ourselves, and we might well make it worse.”  
  
Claire smiled at his use of 'we'. “I know,” she said again. “I just hate seeing them like this. They were so close before – a real double act.”  
  
“And they might be again, one day, but there's no forcing it. You aren't responsible for fixing everybody else's lives.” He lowered his voice so it wouldn't carry. “Theo hurt your cousin very badly, Claire. And rebuilding trust takes a long time.”  
  
She laid a hand on his arm, knowing how deeply he understood that.  
  
Anthony gave a sad, wry smile of acknowledgement. “What did you want to say to me?”  
  
“Almost the opposite, actually.” She hunted through the drawer for a tea strainer. “We gave you that key for a very good reason – and it wasn't so you can drop books off on your way home. You don't have to wait to be invited over, or for us to suggest a plan; you can use the flat whenever you like, even if we're not here. Use it as a base if you're in the city and you need a break; watch a DVD, nap on the sofa, hang out with Dumbo, whatever. And if we do suggest something, you don't need to make twenty-seven excuses before you eventually agree. In fact we'd rather you didn't.” She looked up at him, gently teasing. “It's exhausting. Just say yes – or no, if you really don't want to do whatever it is. We won't be offended. Everyone needs space; we get that. But there's a difference between needing space and pretending you don't need friends.”  
  
“I know. And thank you.” He smiled, a little tautly. “Though you knew my last group of friends...”  
  
Claire snorted as she poured the tea. “Not well, thankfully, but I knew enough. Lawrence seemed alright, but as for the rest of them...well.”  
  
“Yes. Quite.”  
  
She took his hand. “We're not them, Anthony. Yes, we have our moments, and yes, we've all done stupid things -”  
  
“Except Nicholas.”  
  
“I wouldn't be so sure about that.” She gave a wicked grin. “The point is, we might not get everything right all the time, but we do care about each other – and we care about you. So...be involved with us, and please stop shutting us out? I know you don't mean to,” she added as he opened his mouth. “I know it's hard when the rest of us have all known each other for a long time. But you and I go a long way back too.” She squeezed his hand. “You know better than anyone else what I went through in those years at Brick Court, and at Marquis and Harman. And...” Her heart hammered. She'd never quite dared to say this to him before. “I think I know a little of what you were feeling, back in that autumn, when we worked on that last case together. I know what it's like to feel your life coming apart at the seams.”  
  
Anthony swallowed, but forced another smile. “You didn't like me then.”  
  
“I wonder.” She took a deep breath, and let go of his hand. “Anyway, when your parents come back, I want you to be able to tell them honestly that you had a busy, relaxing weekend with your friends. If they find out you sat at home on your own for four days, do you seriously think they'll go away without you again?”  
  
“Point,” he acknowledged.  
  
She returned his smile. “Come on.” She picked up the tea tray. “Gil and Theo will think we've run away to sea.”  
  
They drank tea and debated the merits of various scary films; when they'd settled on a shortlist, Gil ran upstairs to shower and change, and by the time he was done, Harrison and Luc had arrived.  
  
“We brought wine,” Harrison said, hugging Claire. “As a thank you for having us. Though I don't want him drinking,” he added, glaring at Luc.  
  
Luc pulled a face. “Spoilsport.” He turned to hug Theo. “Hey, man.”  
  
“Hey.”  
  
Harrison waited for them to step apart, and then approached Theo. “Can I have a word?”  
  
Theo looked surprised, but nodded, and led him out onto the balcony.  
  
“He feels guilty about what he said,” Luc explained.  
  
“He was pretty harsh.” Gil stretched and held out his arms to Luc. “Though I get it. We were all worried; you weren't in a good way.”  
  
“Are you feeling better?” Claire asked as Luc kissed Gil on both cheeks and hugged him.  
  
“Yes, thank you.” Luc laughed a little. “Sören has been texting me every day, making sure I don't feel sick, I don't have a headache, I'm not tired...he is like a mother chicken.”  
  
“A mother hen,” Claire corrected gently, smiling as she hugged him.  
  
“Yes, exactly.” Luc batted his eyelashes, then looked over at Anthony and grinned. “ _Bekatu._ ”  
  
Anthony folded his arms. “That's Basque. You're cheating.”  
  
Luc's eyes glowed. “Can you speak Basque as well?”  
  
“No, but I know that wasn't French.”  
  
“What does it mean?” asked Gil, sliding an arm around Luc's waist.  
  
Luc blinked demurely. “Sin.”  
  
Outside the mist thickened and swirled. Theo and Harrison returned from the balcony; Claire caught Theo's eye, and he gave her a subtle thumbs up. Anthony, watching, smiled at her, and she shook her head faintly. _If you dare to say “I told you so”, Anthony Wyatt-Jones..._  
  
Theo and Harrison didn't speak to each other much through the meal – guacamole and home-made tortillas; bean chilli and wild rice; fresh mango dipped in dark chocolate sauce – but they were polite, at least, and talkative enough with all the others. After dinner, Harrison and Luc curled up together on the smaller sofa; Anthony and Gil stretched out on the larger one that folded out into a bed; Theo perched on a cushion, and Claire pulled out one of the dining chairs. They dimmed the lights, set _Scream_ playing on the wall-mounted TV - and before she let herself settle into the edged, uneasy cosiness of being scared from the comfort of her living room, Claire lifted her phone and snapped a quick picture to share with Sören and Nicholas.  
  
_My boys._  
  
A shiver whispered through her. There had been too many near-misses – Harrison's leap from the pier; Gil's broken ankle and the near-collapse of his career; Theo's overdose; Anthony's accident; Nicholas and the flu; Sören's battles with his mental health, and her own brush with the dark; now Luc, falling limp like a rag-doll after a tackle on the rugby pitch. What was still to come?  
  
_“What's your favourite scary movie?”  
_

_“I don't know.”_

_“You have to have a favourite...”_  
  
She shook herself. She was being stupid.  
  
Gil lifted his eyes and smiled at her; she smiled back, blew him a kiss. On the other sofa, Harrison stirred, wrapping one of Luc's braids around his finger. Theo wriggled and shifted on his cushion, then settled with his back against the sofa, his head resting close to Anthony's knee.  
  
_Enough._ Claire gave herself over to teenage nostalgia, to the company of friends, and to the knowledge that in this moment, they were all safe. _Enough for now._


End file.
